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Tomatoes was himself a gift to the world, Los Angeles and to those who were lucky enough to know him especially. Individual, bright, eccentric, purely himself and purely alive. Rest in peace, Tomatoes. May the place you go have all the Steel Reserve and everything else that your heart desires. You'll live on in those who carry your regard for living a full life with us. So sad to see you go.
I remember the first time I met you, you had me rolling with laughter all weekend from the first moment. I talked smack about D & D and for the next 3 days you gave me hell in the most hilarious way. I've never enjoyed being heckled so much.
I can't wrap my head around this. Tomatoes was mythical. He was fucking Billy Jack. He could ride behind shadows. If anyone needs me I'll be in Hotel Denial for the next few days. Penthouse Suite. Fuck.
I remember going to sleep one night at Salton Sea to the sound of Tomatoes doing an epic (in the poetic sense) and possibly fictional megaphone rant from the point of view of a repressed teenager lashing out at mom and dad...and then waking up the next morning in the sticky heat of my tent to the sound of Tomatoes still doing largely the same rant.
For all that, he was just a really sweet and vulnerable guy if you got to know him even a little bit, and I have to say that's about as much as I ever did.
Now somebody post a closeup of his real estate agent photo tattoo.
I saw Tamatoes a walking piece of experimental art. In his looks, demeanor and actions. Ive met many unique people in both Midnight Ridazz and life in general but I cant say anyone has ever exceeded him. He was outrageous but also very affectionate. Everyone could take a lesson from Tomatoes and live everyday to the fullest while we are still here.
Walking down that trail over and over again. I've never seen anywhere so devoid of human life. I got lost in the desert. I caught a ride to San Bernardino with Tomato. We were gone camping. There was a bunch of us, and yeah, you guessed it, I was shitfaced drunk listening to headphones. I was sitting up on a hill, chainsmoking cigarettes chainchugging warm beers, and right then and there, I knew once and for all, I regret nothing. If I keel over and die right here on the hill in the desert, I don't regret sticking my hand up her skirt. Maybe she didn't like it, but maybe she did. So, I'll just cut to the chase: I got lost, really really lost. I think I was literally walking the wrong way for maybe 12 hours I'm guessing. The idea of sticking my hand up her skirt brought me the most comfort. There was two of us: the reasonable Tomatoes and the panicking Tomatoes. The reasonable Tomatoes told me, "Maybe if you survive all this, you'll get the opportunity to put your hand up her skirt again. Maybe just one last time. Maybe this time, there won't be so many people in the room." "Oh fuck it, here lies a macho fucking slut. He died the way he lived. Sunburnt, drunk, horny, full of pain, and covered in grime." You take it and you leave it. I took more than I left, and now, there's nothing left to do besides laying here in the gravel and daydreaming about her panties. They had ladybugs on them I believe. I would bet one million dollars that that's the sweetest pussy on the face of the planet. I would bet another million that those are the sweetest kisses on the face of the planet. I won't live to redeem the money though. I will be validified though. She will spread those sweet, sweet kisses and sweet, sweet pussy all across the land. All in my name I'm hoping.
Every time she fucks somebody, my quiet voice will be urging her to fuck him even harder. Oh yeah, you better believe it! I will be lingering way after death. Yes, it may be true, my corpse will be laying rotting in the desert. Animals will be eating me, tearing my intestines out, but my eyes will be watching her have sex, urging her to give him an enthusiastic blowjob.
Why does it smell like crack in my apartment? In the future, they will have cocaine-less crack, just for people like me that just like the taste, but don't like jacking off with a limp penis for hours.
Miley Cyrus was over here the other day. We did a bunch of lines of coke and I dressed her up with a plaid skirt and some knee highs and nothing else. Suffice it to say, majorly illegal shit occured. I don't regret that either. I knew I was going to get lost in the desert.
I would slice a thousand throats for just one kiss. Well, yeah, duh, When such said "just one kiss" is taking place, it's a given, she's going down on the floor with me on top of her. I didn't spend 20 hours alone in the desert for nothing. I mean, what's one act of rape after I just murdered a thousand people? I'm just kidding of course. I would never rape anybody. It makes me sad even joking about it. So, one would think I would erase that last comment. Oh fucking well. Some major fucking is about to take place. Fucking whatever. Literally.
So, I saw some teenagers and they were drunk and jocks. It was the first people that I had seen in probably 8 hours. I ran up in the front of their truck, and they stopped. They had to. They would've killed me otherwise. They were all drinking beer. So, I ran over to the driver's window. "I'M LOST!!!! I'M LOST!!!! CAN Y'ALL GIVE ME A RIDE TO A PAYPHONE?!?!?" Well, they drove off laughing hysterically, much in the same way I had been doing just a few minutes prior just out of desperation and hopelessness. It's funny, I asked for it. I'm always interested in exploring loneliness. Well, not no more. Nearly everything I want eventually comes my way. Well, yeah, you better believe it. I think this was easily the most lonely I've ever felt in my whole entire life. "WELL, AT LEAST TELL ME WHICH DIRECTION TO WALK TO!" They showed me the way with multiple middle fingers. It was up by the powerlines. The powerlines: besides the trail and the jocks and their middle fingers, the only evidence of human beings that I could see. I know what they were thinking. I'm nearly psychic. They were thinking, "Fuck LA people. LA people like middle fingers. Let's make him feel at home." Maybe not in so many words, but pretty much something along those lines. Well, anyways this blog is in two parts. I'm saving some of my creative juice for part two, most probably the best part. Stay tuned to see how I'm alive to write about it.
Walking down those dusty trails. Not even the comfort of a few extra hot cup of tea beers eased my pain, but Snoopy; I knew she was back in LA. Snoopy would take a nap with me on the floor. Snoopy will lick those wounds like an affectionate puppy. All I have to do is walk into the lights. That's what the reasonable Tomatoes said. Unfortunately, he wasn't in control of the direction I was walking into. I had a third encounter with a fucking cop car. I saw them. They were driving around and around shining their spot light up into the brush. "NO! NO! OVER HERE! I"M FUCKING LOST! HELP!!!!! HEEEEEEEEEEEELLLLLLLPPPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" I screamed until horse. That didn't a damn bit of good. Luckily, Tomato had given me a towel. Some slight bit of good that provided me. At one point, I nearly threw it away, but once nighttiime came down, it got really cold, and that fucking towel made me a real man. I curled up in it shaking like a motherfucking pussy leaf. The sweetest pussy leaf in the world. All you need is a towel. That and an English bloke saying the expression "bloody cunt" over and over.
"SNOOPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! SNOOPY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" She couldn't hear me either. I just wanted to live. I want to live. I will always want to live. This macho fucking slut wants to see at least one more day. I want to sit at my bench with Snoopy at Echo motherfucking Park and drink some motherfucking beer and put expletives all over the place for no reason. You know what makes me happy? drinking beer with Snoopy at Echo motherfucking Park.
I walked down Powerline Road. It was so mean. It was cruel how beautiful it was. I've never seen anything like that. "Damn, that's one big fucking rock," I thought to myself. I thought to myself, "I can sit right down here and weep miserably, but that won't get me any closer to Snoopy." I considered cracking, but that wouldn't get me any closer to Snoopy. Not in the slightest bit. "HEEELLLLLLPPPPPPPP!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! HEEEEEEEELLLLLPPPPP! AYUDAME!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! AUXILIO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Nobody came. It was just me, myself, and I. I think I fell down at least 20 times, and each time, I checked myself. The reasonable Tomatoes told me, "Well at least you didn't break anything." And you know what my consolation was? Good question. I don't even know what the word consolation means. I wish I did, but I threw my dictionary out because there was bed bugs breeding in it. And all those cuts. I'm experimenting with trying to make my limbs fall off. Just not my right hand. I don't want my right hand to fall off. I like being independent, and my right hand plays a major part in that.. It wasn't the first time I've been lost in the desert. When I was 18 years old on Kristmas eve I walked out into the desert in Mexico. I saw a UFO. You think I'm kidding. I'm not. I was walking down from Real de Catorce. Looking to get eat peyote. The nastiest possible thing you could ever eat. You have to eat it with oranges. Unfortunately, I didn't know that at the time. I ate a bucket of sand with my buttons. The tradition is when you find peyote, you don't eat the first one you find. You leave that for the next 18-year-old wandering by himself in the desert, but the next one, you carve it out. Leave the root, so it can grow some more for other people that want to trip. Only eat maximum 4. You will trip so hard from just 4 buttons. Don't eat anymore. Wait 'til you come puke and then wait another 4 hours or so, and then puke some more and then eat some more. Besides Ketamine, peyote is the only halucinogenic I could eat on a daily basis. I took it at the Basilca in Mexico City. Some lady had her kid dresses up so erotically. I said out loud, "Why would you dress up your 4-year-old kid like a fucking clown?" I was assuming nobody knew English. Unfortunatelty, the mother did. I got the Evil Look to end all Evil Looks. OK, so I guess this a 3 part thing. My D&D charcter is calling me. She's an evil witch. King Buzzo would say the Stoner Witch. She's a decrepid old hag witch that gets off to killing people. She does it every chance she gets. She's looking for her dog, Pesadillacrutschia. If you find her dog, please let me know. It'll ease a slight bit of suffering.
I got really tired. I kept walking like those drunk jocks told me down by the powerlines, and I kept on thinking that I could hear cars. That's what kept me walking. Yeah, it was probably 3 in the morning. There's no traffic in San Bernardino County at 3 in the morning. My mind didn't realize that. I hadn't had any water to drink and I had been walking around in the desert for 12 hours. "Fuck!, everybody's probably gonna think I did this just because I want attention." I mean, I do like attention, but not that much, and if I would get intentionally lost in the desert just for attention, I mean, that's pretty inconsiderate. I laid down in the dirt and ate three sugarless Lifesavers just to inspire my mouth to salivate. The moon came up over a hill. It was beautiful. It was awe inspiring. I didn't eat anymore. I didn't want diarreah. It'll give it to you. It says it right there on the package. "Dear, whoever in the fuck, you can have all my shit. Play depressing music at my funeral and get shit faced drunk every single day for a whole year in my memory. I want to be buried naked. And everybody that attends my funeral must have sex with each other. The two most important things in life: getting drunk and sex. I want it represented for my death." I jumped up and began walking again. I thought I heard traffic. It was actually just the buzzing of the power towers in case you hadn't already gathered that already. God fucking damn it, it was so beautiful. I got Aflack. I'm not sure how you're supposed to collect on it when you're a dead rotten bloated corpse in the desert. I was wondering about that. I mean normally, this would've been heaven for me. I love remote shit, and I love loneliness because it makes the company of another that the much sweeter once it comes, but I was saturated in fear. Fear, that I would never finish my dumb book. If I would've let myself, I could've busted out crying. But, once you start doing shit like that, it's hard to return. I placated me by thinking of ideas for my next book. I'm on death row in a foreign planet, and they're going to chop my head off and eat it, and as a policy they make you write an autobiography before you die. But, the whole thing is going to be me cussing out those that are about to kill me, and about a girl that I like that was fucking me before I got in jail, and she won't come visit. I think my favorite book on the face of the planet is Hunger. It's about being hungry in case you hadn't already gathered that. Thirst? a blatant rip off. I can't help it I can't help that it was summertime, and I went and shot a bunch of people in front of Grausman Chinese Theater. Superman told me as he was bleeding all over the stars, "Tomato!, why did you do this to me?" "TOMATOES, MOTHERFUCKER!!!! IT'S TOMATOES!!!!!!!!!! IT'S MORE THAT ONE TOMATO, YOU STUPID ASSHOLE!!!!!!!!" and then I fill superman with more holes. Hot weather makes me pissed off. "TELL, WONDERWOMAN, i ALWAYS WANTED TO FUCK HER!!!!!," but I was too shy to do anything about it.
I saw some cars driving way off in the distance, so I walked in that direction. I f I just get there, and lay down in the middle of the trail, when they run me over, they have to stop, right? I mean, I might dead and all that, but they'll have to stop. I want to be buried in Austin. That one graveyard over east of the 35. And, I want to be wearing my skull ring, and I want everybody to kiss my corpse's face. Kiss my on the lips, you stupid ass bitch! Is it OK? Can the dead Tomatoes say, "you stupid ass bitch!"? I mean, I;m dead for shit's sake. At least give me that. And bury me with Steel Reserve. And, I'll drink it. I promise.
So, anyway, I was so very tired. I fell down a few more times. Took a whole bunch of naps. I finally got to the road where the cars drive. I turned around three times and made my pallet of crunched gravel. The lonely sex wolf howling alone in the desert. It was so soft down there. It was comfortable to say the least. I curled up in Tomato's towel . I was smelling it hoping that that smell would keep me alive .
The sun came coming up. It stirred me a bit, and then low and behold, a car came barreling down the trail. They had their headlights on. I screamed and yelled, "DEAR NATALIA!!!! i'M FUCKING DEAD." I ran in front of the car, and she curved around me. It was this lady, she had me sit in the backseat just to make it that much easier to strangle her. And much to my disfortune, she was talking about Jesus. I felt like a pussy to not've strangled her. I would've been doing the world a favor. One less christian equals one tiny little step towards a more pleasant world. Imagine a world without Jesus where people are nice to each other just because that's what you're supposed to do. So, suffice to say, she let me have it. She was a native American. More to come.
I came upon a trail that had tire tracks on it. I knew that if I just stayed there for long enough, a car was bound to drive down it. And even if they wouldn't be willing to pick me up, they would hopefully at least, call the cops or something. I laid down making a fresh pallete, and draped myself with Tomato's towel. I was hoping it would smell like her, but it didn't. I figured I could survive for at least 24 hours more without water before becoming delirious. Half of me wanted no cars to come. That would be so glamorous dying lost in the desert. Not as predictable as heroin overdose or a drunk driving accident or suicide by cop. Leaving this world alone just like I came into it. Just me, Tomatoes, and I. But the other half wanted to live. New people to fuck, new cities to live in, new drugs to fuck my life up with, new grammatical errors that I had never dabbled with. I've never tried PCP, and would hate to die without experiencing that. I fell asleep keeping an open ear for cars. Right before the sun came up with just a tinge of light, I heard the pathetic groan of an old fucked up domestic car barreling down the trail. I jumped up and jumped in front of such said fucked up car waving Tomato's towel around like a matador. That was unintentional. I wasn't trying to be funny, I swear. I knew they wouldn't stop which they didn't. They swerved around me and seemed to be abandoning me when suddenly it stopped. A middle age dark-skinned woman smoking a cigarette was at the driver's seat motioning for me to get in the back. And I know this is going to sound corny, but I couldn't get the opening scene from Slacker out of my head. It was so bad, I had to catch myself from explaining all of the different trails that I could've possibly taken, and what might've happened had I made those different choices.
I was speaking Spanish to her, and she had no idea what I was saying. I felt like an asshole assuming she spoke Spanish. So, I assumed that she was "native American" still being an asshole with my assumptions.
"You could've been killed out there, you know? Lots of people die out here. You're just lucky you didn't die. You better thank Jesus you didn't die"
"I know, I know, I know. Yeah, I didn't get lost on purpose. I was over by the hot springs, and the next thing I knew, I was lost."
"You know, my five-year-old son walks up to the hot springs from our trailer and he doesn't get lost, God bless his soul."
"Yeah, I know, I'm an idiot. I wasn't paying attention. I just didn't think it would be possible to get lost with so much open space around."
"And, at least, next time, bring some water and food with you. You know, I just can't believe you would do something like that." At this, I had just been assuming that she was going to offer me some water to drink. She didn't. She lit another cigarette and continued to reprimand me. "And, I'm going to be late to work because of you."
"I saw cops across the mountain top last night. They were shining spotlights around. I was yelling and yelling. They were completely off."
She began to laugh like a maniac. "No, there's no cops around here. The only time a cop comes around here is never. That was my neighbor. He's a fucking asshole. Drunk motherfucking asshole. I mean, don't get me wrong, God bless him, but still he's an asshole."
I didn't feel the need to comment on what she had said. It hurt just a tiny little bit. When I had seen those spotlights, it made me feel like somebody cared. It urged me to move in the direction of those lights. It was just some dickhead like me fucking with his neighbors.
We were silent for quite some time. Her chainsmoking cigarettes in her hotel uniform and me sitting there in the back seat quietly contemplating the urgent need to make out with every single woman that lets me.
After about 15 minutes or so, we began to drive through some area that was semi-developed. There was the cutest little bunny sitting right there in the middle of the road. It was facing in the opposite direction. Its long ears were perky. In the equivocated direction away from us. It was gazing in awe at the sun that had begun to arise over a mountain top. Truly serene to say the least. A sight to behold or some such other cliché expression. I wanted to warn her, but I didn't want to scare her by touching her or yelling out, "HEY! THERE'S A FUCKING RABBIT!!!!!"
It went underneath her old, shitty tires with a satisfying snap. Completely obliterated. Broken down to a pureed blob of red and white desmadre. Her fucked up tires and the difficult terrain turned what could've been a neat stop into us nearly crashing into a ravine. Her sobbing came and came and came. I thought she was never going to stop crying. I thought about what I had seen in movies and television. When somebody's going through something traumatic like that, you're supposed to lay your hand on their shoulder and console them. "But, that's so fucking typical," I told myself.
"I take care of all the animals. All the dogs, and the cats, and the bunnies, and now I killed the innocent bunny. At least, the bunny's going to heaven." Besides in movies, I don't think I've ever experienced anybody weep this hard, but still, I just sat back there and tried to mind my own business. She started driving again, but had to pull over once again to ball. And ball she did, it came out like a broken fire hydrant. Right then and there, she was crying about every single painful experience she had ever had in life. She was crying about the boy in high school that she liked that didn't like her back. She was crying about her cruel dad that never paid attention to her. She was crying about her granma dying. She was crying that she lived out in a trailer in the middle of nowhere. She was crying that she had to go to some bullshit job that pays her nearly nothing even though she's worth so much more. She was crying that she had some dipshit alcoholic in her backseat. I'm no stranger to emotional pain, but this was truly something else. I still refused to react.
She dropped me off at the gas station half an hour later. I waited until it opened, and then gorged on Carrot juice, peanuts, and Steel Reserve. The cab company said it would take 2-3 hours to come pick me up since it was so remote. I sat the fuck down over towards the side of the store guzzling 211 admiring the dawn and the bunnies and expecting to get harrased by the local police. That never happened. Everybody out there is even weirder than I am myself and on an infinite amount more of meth.
The cab driver picked me up with a gigantic mouth. It was full of tobacco chew. He looked like a victim of Chernobyl. I was instantly in love with him. I was smoking a cigarette back there helping him out, studying the Thomas Guide. Fortunately, I had a crumpled up flyer with the directions where the camp was. We were gonna take a right down this one dusty road, and there was 5 SUV's with San Bernardino County Seals on the side blazing down the trail at 40 miles per hour. They raised so much dust, we had to roll up the windows and turn on the AC. I was joking about it, saying, "Hey, I bet they're looking for me."
He was laughing. It all felt so good. I was drunk once again, hanging out with someone of questionable mental integrity just like me. But, more than anything, I wanted to get back to LA, so I could get to work the next day. Being financially independent is very important to me.
As we rolled into camp in the cab, that's one of the most embarrassing moments of my life. All those cops were there. There was like 15 of them. They were about to deploy helicopters. The search and rescue team was getting all suited up to go look for "Tomato". I insisted that Tomato is another person, but they weren't having it.
The main cop had me take off my shirt to get a photo of all my tattoos. "Oh yeah, any excuse to get me to take my clothes off." He didn't like that.
Anyway, I'm alive, as you've probably already assumed by the fact that I wrote this. I'm sorry to've made y'all worry.
Not sure. Stuff he posted online is different but maybe he didn’t want anyone to read his unfinished work. I never found anything online but he showed me some work here and there on paper. I guess it would be up to those closest to him/his mom to see what they want to do.
"Dear, whoever in the fuck, you can have all my shit. Play depressing music at my funeral and get shit faced drunk every single day for a whole year in my memory. I want to be buried naked. And everybody that attends my funeral must have sex with each other. The two most important things in life: getting drunk and sex. I want it represented for my death."
I can't believe this!!
I thought it was a joke he was playing on us....but we will truly miss him.
R.I.P tomatoes I will always remember the social gatherings we had at echo park and the way you always tried to explain cribbage to me.
His writings were really interesting. To some extent he thought of himself as a Charles Bukowski. The writing, the boozing, the ladies. A lot of his writings were only available to his Myspace friends and obviously he can't add you now.
I liberated them from myspace and Facebook and put them all unedited on this page.
The first time I ever read any of that, one of the best descriptions of the "HD" as told by a dude from the big city out for a walk.
Too bad he's gone, he would've been the number one candidate for penning an edition of "Welcome to the HD for dummies".
The first time I saw the guy he was being interviewed in a speedo on a Midnight Ridazz ride in 2005.
One night a few years ago he was in an arm socking contest with anther rida. They punched each other in the same place all night long and did some serious damage to each other's arms that could have permanently damaged each other's arm.
He was also a very personable guy, a good conversationalist, and innocently clueless when it seemed to serve him.
He's sure to become a legend in RIdazz lore. His radio show, blog posts, and the images of him are fodder for so many tributes and myths to pop up.
Here's a few pics I culled from events. I'm not sure when I met Tomatoes but is was around five or six years ago. I did some beach cruier only race that he organized. After that we would see each other around and he'd bring his bike by because he needed this and that done on some ratty old ladies beach cruiser with a basket on the front. I remember once where we were riding in the rain and he looked like the Gordon's fishermen all decked out in a bright yellow rain slicker. We got stopped by the cops, we had no lights. I was talking with the cops and Tomatoes just froze, every time he was asked a question he would only move his head in a panicked fashion, I'm suprised they did not arrest him. Just one of my many adventures with Tomatoes. There's more but I figure that if you knew the guy, you'd have a similar tale. Not to sound preachy, but you never know when it's over so make the most of the time you have here for it could be cut short. I know he had no intentions of checking out like this, he was going to a school to work on tranmissions and was planning on getting an article together for my zine. We'd added him to our group of Dungeons and Dragons players and he was talking about getting the books and learning all the spells (he was playing a wizard) so he was looking toward the future. One of the few people that's been involved in the bike scence from early on that has not dropped off as so many have over time. You'll be missed...ride on....
I've kept a bunch of the writings he's posted and I plan on putting it together in a printed format. If anyone has any of the stuff that didn't make it online please get in touch. I'm sorry to say that as important as he was to me, I don't know many of his friends.
Also the stories people are sharing about him are great and show just how fucking amazing he was and how many people he touched. He came to all the early bike stuff in 03 and 04 and was just so fucking stoked. Such pure, unfiltered no bullshit excitement about bikes.
Matt (bikeswarm [at] gmail)
Tomatoes was my partner at the Choppercabras events. TEAM EAT SHIT !
The Rev. Dak and I got Tomatoes to attend Santa Con for the last 3 years.
We used to play D&D with him on many occasions.
Tomatoes is part of the inspiration for the Midnight Ridazz Salton Sea trips since he made it an effort to go out there by himself at least once a year. It was his own personal Mecca.
He really turned me on to Charles Bukowski and John Fante.
He always made me feel good whenever he saw me and gave the best hugs.
He was really great at making you feel important when you were around him.
He always made me laugh even during difficult times he knew how to turn dark situations into levity with his twisted humor.
He was the most real and honest person I've ever met. It pains me so much that we will not be able to share more times together. So much more we could have explored and corrupted.
He may have looked as scary as fuck to some. And he may have said lots of things to piss people off, but they were all coming from a place of virtue. He had the sweetest heart I've ever seen. A brilliant mind who also had concern for others. But he didn't put up for any bullshit from others and from that of society.
The first things he and I ever talked about were about his writings. I have always encouraged him to get them finished and into print. There is so much about him that I want to learn and I know that others want to read his works too. I think it is really important that we get his writings on paper compiled and possibly published. Or, like roadblock said, into a Zine or something that will remain permanent. This is all we have left of him besides the wonderful memories we had with him.
Tomatoes is a star and a legend for us to honor.
He was a Pope. He was the Backwards Saint. All Hail!
"Well, my dad, he's a dick. We don't get along. He hates my unibrow. I guess he has one and shaves it or whatever and it just really bothers him that I have one. He can't stand to look at me, and ever since I dropped out of college, I haven't done him any good. He's ashamed of me, and he knows I'm a drunk and that I do drugs and I'm just an over all shady person. So, he has a girl with another lady other than my mom, and I'm pretty sure he's not planning on having any more kids, so after me, that's it for the last name. It's a stupid last name anyway: Taccir. When my dad's family moved from Russia to Argentina years and years ago, they changed it from Tacsier to Taccir, so it wouldn't seem like a jewish last name because they were escaping persecution or something. I don't even know the full story. It doesn't make that much sense to me. I don't even get judaism. I know that it's a religion worshipping the old testament or something, and I've even read a lot of that book, but the whole seems totally made up, so I don't have much of the attention span for it. It's just a bunch of gibberish. Well, so far, for my vasectomy...."
marino responding to a comment by ericduville
10.12.10 - 11:26 am
I fucking LOVED Francisco Tomatoes Puree Taccir. I wish I was more like him when I was younger. I fucking miss him so much. We played D&D every week for several years. I will miss Malecrutia, the evil cleric that wouldn't heal only kill. I will miss the Blodulvia, the perverted old witch that loved to charge into battle and curse. But I will mostly miss Tomatoes the Backwards Saint and tattooed Santa, he forever changed my life. I will miss his drunk calls and computer questions.
CHISMAS IS FOR PEND-EJOS!
I want to build a permanent memorial for him at Salton Sea.
I don't know, but there will be a memorial gathering for Tomatoes this Saturday the 16th at 4:30pm at Echo Park Lake by the boat house. Bring pictures, words, and memories of him as we celebrate his life while attempting to inhale a 211.
Even though I am new to this bike rides and even though I only saw Him maybe twice, one f those times was a memorable one(He was wearing His Yellow underpants or whatever they are and nothing else LOL).
I will make my way to the old stumping grounds for this, thank you.
I've been having trouble writing anything and coming to terms with this. Fuck i miss him so much already. I've been trying to go through old photos of him, and it's bringing back so many great memories. So often when the two of us hung out, we ended up finding ways to do some of the dumbest shit and have the best time doing it. I'll never forget all our camping trips, the hundreds of cribbage games we've played over the years, the punching contests that i always won which pissed you off to no end, drinking beer with you at Echo Park Lake, tattoo bets and celebrating your birthday about 15 times a year.
Fuck you Tomatoes and Happy Birthday. I love you my friend.
i met tomatoes in 05 i belive.he was handing out flyers at a party at the ol bike haus i believe,for his ride celebrating his vasectomy.it was always great seeing him and drinking with him.i would manage to piss off twice as many people when i partied with him.
its pretty sad to think how we all take eachother for granted until its too late,but i guess thats how life is.ive been reading his blogs and they are really amazing.here we had probably one of the most interesting people in los angeles and we didnt celebrate him when he was here as much as we will after he is gone.
i was at atomic cycles maybe about a year ago and paul had a bowl full of random buttons that you pin on.he had some of tomatoes and i picked one out of there.im glad i got that and somehow managed to not lose it.it will be a cherished possesion.
that dude was as punk rock as they get.
Doctor Who on BBC was Tomatoes favorite TV show. He had watched the first two episodes of the new season with me at my place earlier this year. I promised to record the rest of the season for him so that he could come back to watch them all later. We never got around to watching the rest...
I'm planning to watch them all in a marathon soon in his honor, please let me know if you'd like to come over for it.
I only met Tomatoes a few times, but his was a kind of personality that you don't forget. Here he is arranging a staring competition at the Salton Sea:
It's not the greatest recording ever, but maybe somebody will appreciate it. Tomatoes took what was shaping up to be a rather unremarkable afternoon and made it into something more memorable. It seems like he did that kind of thing a lot.
(the first minute or so is Tomatoes arranging the tournament, and the second is from the Tomatoes vs. Tomato battle about an hour later)
Yeah! Borfo, I would love to join you. He was telling me about this show but I did not have a television for many years and I don’t recall ever having watched an episode. He invited me over to watch them sometime and I agreed but then he changed his mind and said that he likes that no one else likes/watches this show and wants to keep it that way.
his passing has had me really bummed out these past two days. I only had to meet him a handful of times before i started listening to his radio show and reading the writings he posted on facebook. im so glad these things are archived.
I first met Tomato Sexx Wolf, that's his real name, at a race he threw during Bike Summer back in '05. It was the "Tomato Sexx Wolf Thunderbird Beach Cruiser Vasectomy Race". I cant remember if it was a benefit for, or celebration of, his Vasectomy. Either way it was a mad dash up and down the LA River, and around Silverlake. Several stops had cups with a heavy load of Thunderbird and some Kool-Aid. You had to drink em before continuing. It was great. I remember him giving away $20 to the winner, and other prizes were used board games. It was great.
Everything everybody posted above is true. He was hands down, one of the most unique individuals you could ever meet in your life. Always havin a good time, no drama and smiles all around.
Rest In Peace bro. Heaven just got a little more fun.
yeah for sure. me and chicken have had this dr who ride in the planning forever. We said we would start working on it in memorial to tomatoes. plus we dont have cable so please can we come over. Maybe we could do the ride before. Not that many people know who dr who is any way.
I've been reading attentively but It helps to get it out and share. I've known tomatoes for 5 or 6 years we met him at bike summer. he had his classic speedos on and was talking about getting his vasectomy because he was going on to doing pornstars only. I couldn't stop laughing, he was so real, i swear i could not talk to another human being like how i talked to tomatoes and as he slowly went further into drugs through the years I told him your the only one that talks to me, that we can we really understand each other. The deepest conversations of my life. My roomate anne said he talked to much but I think it was an awesome thing to be so pure of heart and mind.I loved him to death and wished he didnt stop drinking because that was better for him than the drugs. I still dont believe he's dead. It will hit me at choppercabras for sure but for now he still lives.
I think, in respect to Tomatoes, we will not disclose the nature of his death. However, It was not intentional. I keep thinking that I wish there was something I could have done to prevent it, but my friends say that none of us could control what happened. What matters is that he lived his life to the fullest, he had the greatest heart, and he was major figure of our community and has effect and inspired us in so many positive ways.
His life should be honored and celebrated... god I miss that sick fucker so much.
Yeah yeah. I'm not feeling it all the way yet either. How late are you guys going to be at echo park till as I won't be out that way until 7pm at the soonest on Saturday. If it's doable, I'd like to be there. Borfo,let me know.
@Paul - I'm really not sure how this will play out as i'm not organizing it. I'm showing up at 4:30 and probably can't stay too late. From what I understand the park thing ends around 7 and then they will move to a nearby location to show videos of him and slideshows and stuff. I actually would like to make some of that. I'll email you more details once I get them.
I talked to him only a couple times. The first time I met him he came into the public access studio I used to work at with a group called "Dungeon Majesty."
The video made that day was one of the most memorable pieces ever shot in that studio.
You can catch Tomatoes at 2:00 into it dressed as a barbarian or something. He's seen a few more times throughout the video.
It was always rewarding to get to talk to Tomatoes one on one. I first met him at Salton Sea 1, I thought he was hilarious while we were there, but didn't realize how brilliant, sweet, and vulnerable he was until I gave him a ride home. It's one of the few times in my life that I really enjoyed being stuck in traffic, it took us like 6 hours to get home, I wasn't in a hurry to get home like normal.
I haven't been able to come to echo park cribbage club in a while but, I would like to make it up again soon. Of all the times I have gone, I never got a chance to play against Tomatoes at cribbage, I feel sad that now I will never have the chance...
you cant fucking stop it dont thing you can even try. it all falls down and you lick it up. there istn even eny way for you to pass it on to anybody, its your own damn faukt and the trickle dribbling down your chin says it all. dont fuck it up now becausse its your last chance the dribbilng mess is the best you got. dont destroy it, destroy ing yourslef is the next best thing. yeah, im the god dmanded walrus and the egg man, and all the fucking proud ce you could imagin e int his woulds.
just let it go. im much more a corpsre than you are, and your jealousy is sickensiung. marked up and bleeding. dead man wakinging.
what more do you need than in and out burger and rite aide ice cream. jouy. serenity?
look up dictionary and ssee where it tklaes you.????
yes. booddds guts. danges. sex. ride home. go to slepe[eeeeep.
i saw tge buddah on the road and i fuckig killed him, i am the zen chainsaw massacire. if you see the buddah on the road, fucking kill her!!!!!!!! yes. its a bitch, !!!!!!!!!!! the buddah has alllthe wisdeom. scrathc its down . kill the woseom. thats the only way...... make your way!!!!1111 only sckothch doctor bronnor. all one god love. jeeehosephat. seriously
I first met Tomatoes at the old A House - he was inviting everyone to his vasectomy ride, the last ride he was going to take before getting it done and then he was going to not be able to ride for a while while he healed up.....
He was one of the first people to buy one of my shirts, which he's wearing in a couple photo's up top... makes me happy that he loved it enough to get it and wear it..
I will rummage around and find the photos I took of Dan stick/poke tattooing 9/11 in 7-11 style on Tomatoes leg at tattoo brunch day...
Thank you all for coming and helping create a wonderful evening for all of us. It makes me very happy to know I will be able to remember our evening together whenever I think of Tomatoes. He really surrounded himself with a great group of people, and I hope we will all stay connected and see each other again soon (salton sea?). I'd like to also show my deep gratitude for everyone who helped make tonight very special: will, johnny, neil, sandor, and jorgen for providing their home, heather, dan, erin, amy, erica, and felicia for the food and altar, marino for the projector, the city of los angeles for echo park, and last but not least, tookie and chivo for support."
Yesterday / last night was really nice - I especially like the un-poem that Marino read, and the photos at the F Haus. I especially didn't like the Steel Reserve, I'll never understand how he drink that shite. (I never tried it until one day hanging out with Rev. Dak and Rev. Mook at Kill Radio's solid gold studios I found one of Tomatoes' Steel Reserves in the fridge, and my sister and I split it. We finished it only because we didn't want to waste it, but I had a renewed respect for Tomatoes' drinking habit after that. Gah.)
I'll really miss seeing Tomatoes' face at my kitchen table every Thursday - I'll miss a lot of things about that guy - and I'll probably keep randomly welling up into tears for a while, but being able to keep him alive through sharing memories with all of you will be really nice..
I saw him a few times riding around by him self..I never spoke to him..always wondered about him.Should have introduced my self.Seems that I missed out on meeting a great person..Lesson learned.
He seems like the type of person that is probably still doing his thing wherever he is at..
Salton Sea 4 should be dedicated to Tomatoes. After all, his birthday inspired the first Ridazz trip there, and the Salton Sea was his personal Mecca where he'd make regular pilgrimages, sometimes by himself.
I especially like the idea of having a memorial of Tomatoes at the Salton Sea.
I miss you Tomatoes. Last time it hit me hard was when I was driving through Amboy, CA a couple of weeks ago and I remembered you were the surprise carpooler out to the 2nd R2RRRR poker ride, best special guest ever!!!
Goddamn. Tomatoes was the first person I ever injected drugs with - crystal meth back in '96, maybe very early '97. I probably would've gone down that path without him, but with him it was a lot faster. Took me 13 long, long years to clean up. I guess he never really did.
Let's say I last saw the guy in 1999 or 2000. I've briefly thought about him once every few years, but that's about it. I'm so sorry for the pain his passing caused to those who loved him.
It's been almost 7 years now I still think about him often. He was such a big part of my first two salton sea trips (ss 2 & 3) which is now such a big part of my life. If only he could see what hitchhikers camp has become! He'd love and hate it so much.
I remember my first year, driving home my buddy was tripping out talking about how crazy and weird the slabbers were, especially "that guy tomatoes" and i was just like, naw man he's not a slabber he was with us.
Back when he passed I didn't have any tattoos but his were definitely inspiring, so now this year at SS I want to get one of my nipples done like his in his memory.
7 years ago today. It was a CicLAvia. I was having drinks at the Echo Park Yacht Club. Erin calls me to tell me that Tomatoes has died. I didn't lose my shit for some reason, I think it was because it was so unbelievable, I became numb. I don't think I cried about it until several days later. It was fucking hard. D&D has never been the same. Ride in his name this week. Sing him Happy Birthday, he hated that.